Professor
by littlemisscass
Summary: Enjolras has only been a professor for a few years but has, since Day One, always tried his best to be very formal and distant with his students. He's only twenty-eight but he doesn't date - he works and spends time with his friends - and he most certainly is not nice to students who corner him in his office at night.
1. Professor

Enjolras opened the door to his office and saw a girl sitting in there. For a second he wondered how she got in, but, seeing the slightly ajar window, he focused instead on the dark-haired, rain-soaked girl sitting with her back facing him, knees tucked under her chin.

He coughed, to warn her that he's there. But she didn't hear or she's not focused on her surroundings; he walked around the desk, putting his manly - very manly - satchel down, and she jumped, dark eyes surprised.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry. I was trying to avoid my ex and I saw the window open and it was raining, so I climbed in and shut it - well, I tried, but it wouldn't clasp. I thought your books might be getting wet, but I checked and they didn't. So I sat down for a second before heading off to dinner, mostly so Montparnasse would go away, but now I'm still here..." She looked out the window into the dark courtyard, "...and it looks like it's been a while. Anyway, I'm really sorry."

The girl exhaled, settling back into her chair. Enjolras had only been a professor for a few years but had - since Day One - always tried his best to be very formal and distant with his students. He was only twenty-eight but he didn't date - he worked and spent time with his friends - and he most certainly was not nice to students who cornered him in his office at night.

Looking at the girl in front of him and making a quick - probably regrettable - decision, he pulled a towel and a blanket out of the cupboard by the door and offered them to her with a small smile.

"Thanks. I'm Éponine," she said, towelling off her hair.

"Enjolras," he choked out. _Enjolras? Shouldn't he tell her to call him Professor or something? Anything but his name! It was so... casual._

He was pulled from his mental anguish by altogether different thoughts about Éponine as she pulled off her large sweatshirt, exposing a tight, black, cleavage-bearing t-shirt and a pale strip of skin above the waistband of her jeans. Enjolras busied himself with shutting the window. The clasp _was _a bitch, she was right. He should move the book case just in case water did get in next time, he told himself.

By the time he turned around, she was wrapped in the thick wool blanket, ensconced back in the chair. He sunk into his own. She was rather pretty, he realised; she was petite, her eyes were framed with thick lashes and her lips were pink and plump and would be nice to bite down on...

"So what do you teach?

"Hmmm?" Enjolras rubbed his eyes, "Sorry, what?"

"What do you teach?"

"History. Renaissance Italy, mostly, but the French Revolution interests me, too."

Éponine sat upright at the word 'Italy', and he shot her a questioning look.

"I'm in your third year lecture! _That's _why you looked familiar. I thought I had probably just seen you around campus, but this is hilarious. Of all the offices... what a coincidence," she chuckled, almost muttering to herself in the end.

"So am I a good professor?" He asked in a low voice, one eyebrow raised. _Was he flirting? No. Not flirting. Stop it, Enjolras, she's just a kid._

"Oh, you're alright, I suppose." Éponine's seriousness was betrayed by a quirk of the lips.

"_Am _I?"

"No, you're my favourite class, actually."

_He was her favourite class? Shouldn't he just be her favourite professor_? But he just smirked, happy. He was glad, as much as he loved the subject and teaching it, genuine feedback was nice to have.

She stood, dropping the blanket onto a chair, "I should be going..."

Éponine bent over to pick up her bag. _Oh my god, _thought Enjolras, staring unceremoniously at her breasts. He wanted to... no. He did not want to even think about that. He needed to go to a bar with his friends and get laid. Soon, very soon.

"Right... well, er, nice to meet you."

"Yeah, see you around Professor. Oh, sorry, I mean Enjolras," she smirked, ducking out the door and shutting it behind her.

_Were all girls that Éponine? No, they weren't. _His friends' girlfriends were okay.. but not at all like her. he wanted, needed to see her again.

He was in trouble.

He was in big trouble.


	2. And So We Meet Again And Again

The next time he saw her, it was almost midnight on a Thursday. Enjolras was exhausted and held a large coffee in one hand as he tried to open his door without dropping the coffee and his bag. It just wasn't working. But then she was there, standing in the gap between him and his office, door open, light on, wrapped in his blanket once again.

"Thanks."

"No problem," she went back to the chair she seemed to have claimed as hers.

"You know my office does have a door. A nice one, with locks on it. Yet I always seem to find my window open..."

Éponine just laughed, a tinkling one that made him want to smile. She'd piled a bag and a stack of books on the chair, and now plucked the top-most one off it and continued - it seemed, as she opened to where a highlighter sat between two pages about two-thirds of the way through - reading whatever she had been looking at before he'd disturbed her. Disturbed her? In _his _office.

"Errr... I hate to sound rude, but why are you here?"

"Errr? Aren't you supposed to be a professor?"

"I am a professor."

"Then why did you say 'errr'? It doesn't sound very intellectual to me..."

"If you weren't here, which you shouldn't be, then perhaps I wouldn't have had to have said 'errr' and sound unintellectual." Enjolras had no idea what he was saying, but he was pretty sure it made sense... slightly sure... almost sure. "Now, why are you here?"

She shrugged, "There were no seats in the library and I was bored."

"And why didn't you just go home?"

"I can't-I mean, I didn't want to."

He knew there was something she wasn't telling him, but he didn't push it. Enjolras took a sip of his coffee, "Alright, well, make yourself... more at home, then."

Éponine made the tinkling laugh again. He felt his pants tighten. She really _really _shouldn't be there. Yet he didn't want her to leave, he couldn't even form the words in his head, let alone his mouth.

* * *

The time after that, Enjolras was at the Musain with the guys.

Marius had roped him, Jehan, Courfeyrac and Grantaire into meeting his new girlfriend. He'd never been a fan of Marius' lady friends - they were a little too girly for his taste, even if they had other good qualities - but being out on a Saturday night gave him ample opportunity to not think about the girl who he had twice found sitting in his office, looking unbearably attractive.

They were all sitting at a cramped little table at the back, having lost out on all the larger ones, waiting for Marius and the mystery girl to appear. When they finally arrived, Enjolras had to admit the girl was pretty, though she looked slightly worried at meeting her boyfriend's friends.

"Guys, this is Cosette."

Pontmercy walked her closer to their table and she offered a small smile, "Hi."

A few hours later, he could conclude that Cosette Fauchelevent was perfect for his friend. She was kind, smart and bickered quite happily with his other friends. Enjolras took a sip of his barely-touched beer as she pulled out her phone, explaining that her friend was supposed to be meeting her.

Cosette darted away, muttering something about how only her boyfriend could choose the hardest table to see from the door, and quickly brought back a dark-haired girl in a short black dress. A dark-haired girl who was looking intently at Enjolras.

"You!"

"_You!_"

"Are you stalking me now, or something?" He spluttered, standing.

"Me? What are _you_ doing here? I'm here to mee-" Éponine's gaze finally landed on the three gobsmacked men at the table, her friend glancing at her curiously from her side and Marius a few feet away with drinks in his hands, "I'm here to meet Cosette's boyfriend and his friends."

Cosette frowned, "How do you two know each other?"

"University," Enjolras supplied.

Courfeyrac and Grantaire looked up sharply from the beers they cradled in their hands. R whispered loudly, "Is this the girl you told us about..? Because I can definit-"

"NO!"

Éponine sank into the seat Marius had brought over, "What?"

"I mean, yes, this is the girl. But no, definitely no, to the other thing!" He shot a warning look at his friends.

"What other thing?"

Their eyes met, hers sparkling with amusement.

"Come with me," Enjolras stood, grabbing her hand and dragging her away from the table and out a side door.

They ended up standing close together in an alley, breathing hard for no real reason.

"What other thing, Professor?" She repeated, cocking an eyebrow.

_Oh screw it._

Enjolras slid a hand into her dark hair, loose and wavy, and pulled her towards him, smashing his lips against hers.


	3. Alright

It was a mistake. A big one. He'd let himself forget who he was, who she was, for a second. For a minute. For a good - and very hot - thirty minutes, as they made out against the alley wall.

Enjolras stared blankly at the laptop in front of him, something he'd often found himself doing since he'd last seen her two weeks previously. Éponine had gotten under his skin. He'd never acted so recklessly and passionately... he'd never wanted to before she came along.

A cough roused him from his daydream. Enjolras looked to the empty doorway before turning to the open window.

Éponine.

She smiled awkwardly, one hand raised in greeting, "May I?"

He nodded, moving around the papers on his desk just to have something to do with his shaking hands. Why was he shaking? He wasn't nervous, even if Éponine did completely unnerve him.

The girl sank into her old chair, dropping her black messenger bag on the floor with a clunk. Enjolras opened his mouth, only to be stopped with look.

"Before you say anything, I just wanted to say that I'm sorry I haven't been around much. We're friends and I've been avoiding you for the past few weeks. After I... uh... pushed you away, I thought it might be best, but yesterday I realised that was stupid, so I'm here," Éponine exhaled, her prepared speech finished. "That said, what's your opinion of the extent of despotism in 15th century Florence? I've been reading and whilst there's much evidence to support it beginning with Cosimo, historiographically I prefer the argument that Lorenz-"

Enjolras kissed her sweetly. He pulled back, resting his forehead against Éponine's, "You know, I think you talk too much."

"I think _you_ talk too much."

"I can make you stop talking."

"Can you, _Professor_?"

He chuckled before pulling her back against him, "Oh, yes."

* * *

Two hours later, they were picking up the papers that had formerly littered Enjolras' desk from the ground. His desk would never be the same, would never unsee what it had seen when he made Éponine stop talking.

"You never did tell me what the other thing your friend mentioned was..."

Enjolras straightened, returning the scattered papers to a small pile on the desk, and didn't meet her eyes. She sat in his chair, wearing only his shirt and her underwear, and smirked.

"I told them I thought you were attractive... and I'd... entertained _thoughts_ about you."

Éponine burst out laughing but stood, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"If you're going to be my boyfriend, _Professor,_ you might have to work on not being so touchy about telling your girlfriend how you feel about her," she pressed a kiss to his jaw, her hands trailing down his bare chest. "You might also want to tell your girlfriend, which is what you told me to call myself a good hour ago, that you think she's absolutely brilliant and pretty and the best sex you've ever had on your desk..."

"You're the only sex I've ever had on this desk."

She looked at him pointedly.

"You're brilliant and _beautiful_," Enjolras whispered, his lips very close to hers. "And what do you think about me?"

"Oh, you're alright, I suppose."

"Just alright?"

"Mhmmm."

"Well, I may just have to show you that I'm better than alright."

"If you _must_, Professor..."

"Are you ever going to stop calling me that?"

"Nope."


End file.
